A Good Name
by NotTasha
Summary: Vin is out to clear his name. Chris, Josiah, Buck and Ezra accompany him to Tascosa and Ezra runs into some serious trouble, forcing the others to leave him behind with Buck
1. A Good Name I

**A GOOD NAME - I**  
_By NotTasha...who has a dandy name_

_NOTE: This is in response to the October 2001 Magnificent 7 Challenge, offered by Julia Neal: Five of the Magnificent Seven are headed to Tascosa to clear Vin's name for good. How will they prove he's innocent now that Eli Joe is dead? Two of the Seven are left to protect the town. Who will take the opportunity to terrorize Four Corners? _

_'Oh no,' _he thought. _'Not again.'_ Things had been so quiet recently, his charge had been sleeping so peacefully, so deeply, over the past day, he'd hoped that the worst was over. Now it seemed like things were just about to get busy again.

"Easy now, easy," Buck muttered, laying his arm across the southerner's chest to keep him still. "It's okay." Ezra didn't quiet down -- not completely. He continued to writhe under Wilmington's arm. His actions didn't seem severe, but Buck had been fooled before and pressed harder, ready for what might happen next. Most of the time, things went well – but sometimes things turned out differently. The ladies' man eyed the straps that bordered the bed, wondering if he should get ahead of the game and put them on now. Should he call Doc Templeton? No, the good doctor was having dinner and could be here in a few minutes if he called. Let the doctor eat for now. Where was Frieda? At her mother's house -- of course.

He watched as Ezra tossed his head and grimaced, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Standish tried to move his hands away from his sides, out from under the blanket, and was countered by Buck who crawled onto the bed, half-laying on him.

"Keep still, Ez," Buck ordered gently, using his free hand to clasp the gambler by the chin and hold his bandaged head immobile. "You don't want to make it worse."

Still, Standish struggled, but Wilmington was rather familiar with how to handle this situation by now and Ezra couldn't pull loose. _Don't want to use those damn straps yet_, Buck thought. _Don't make me use 'em, Ez.'_

He continued speaking softly, "Don't get yourself all worked up, okay? No need to get upset. Won't do you no good, you know. I'm right here, Ezra." He talked soothingly, hoping that the tone of his voice penetrated the addled consciousness of Standish. "It's your ol' buddy, Buck. I know you don't recognize the name, but just rest assured, I'm a friend."

Ezra stopped moving suddenly and slowly opened his glass-green eyes. He blinked at the man directly above him. It took a minute for the image to come into focus and become recognizable. "Buck," Ezra's voice was hoarse and quiet. "What're you doin'?"

Wilmington said nothing, too surprised to speak. "Buck?" Ezra repeated softly. "Somethin' wrong?"

A wide grin broke across Buck's face, and had to blink his eyes to keep from crying. "Ezra?" he queried. "Ezra, you with me now?"

"Where else would I be?" Standish answered peevishly.

"Well, you ain't been exactly _HERE_, Ez."

Ezra didn't understand the response and glared at Buck, whose face was far too close to his own. "What're you doin' on me, Buck?"

Buck laughed, a strange sound to his lips. "Sorry, Ez," he chortled and crawled off the bed. "You get a bit rambunctious if left to yourself sometimes." He rubbed the corners of his eyes as he patted Ezra on the chest with his other hand. "Damn," he cheerfully cried, settling himself on his chair. "Look at you! Your eyes open and lookin' back at me like you know whats-what."

"More or less," Ezra sighed, feeling woozy and weak. The stabbing pain in his head was impossible to ignore. He closed his eyes, trying to combat the ache.

"You know who you are?"

Ezra opened his eyes and gave Buck a disgusted look before responding, "A severely underpaid gambler with unachieved aspirations of wealth." And seeing Buck's grin, he added. "Ezra P. Standish, at your service."

"And you know me, right?" Buck asked. "Know who I am this time, don't cha? You said my name, right?"

"You're Buck Wilmington, a serviceable enough name. You are one rather annoying and overly boisterous member of the Four Corners regulators," he responded, and saw the pleased expression on Buck's face.

"Damn right!" Buck voiced loudly and slapped his knee, making Ezra wince at the noise. "You have no idea how long I've been waitin' for you to say that. To know my name… hell, to know you own for that matter." His smile fell as he examined the pained look on Ezra's face. "Head hurts a lot, don't it?"

"Extraordinarily -- as if someone were pounding a spike through the center of it." Now free, he pulled a hand out from under the covers and laid it across his forehead, jerking it away instantly when he realized that something was strange. He stared at the sock-covered hand, trying to understand what was going on.

"S'okay, Ez," Buck said, quickly pulling the offending sock off the hand and out of sight, and then another as a puzzled Ezra brought the other hand into view. "Don't think we'll need these no more."

"Why?" Ezra turned frightened eyes toward Buck, still holding his hands before him in astonishment. He tried to sit up and felt the world spin. Wilmington quickly wrapped one arm around him, steadying him and taking on his weight, as Ezra slumped against him. Things went rather black for a while and the next thing he knew, Wilmington was gently slapping his face.

"Come on, Ez, I know you're in there. Just wake up again for ol' Buck. I've been waitin' for this day for too long. Open your eyes now," the encouraging words reached him and Ezra slowly opened his eyes, finding a cup of water pressed to his lips. "Drink this up, Ez." And he drank. "Okay now, I'm gonna set you back." And he was lowered slowly and gently to the bed. "Stay with me, now." And he stayed.

He found himself looking up at Buck again -- the ladies' man watched him with a deliberate gaze and a relieved expression. Wilmington seemed pleased as punch just to sit there and stare.

"What's going on?" Ezra asked.

"Hell, Ez, not much of anythin's goin' on. You ain't been yourself for almost two weeks."

"Two weeks?" Ezra whispered, his eyes wide.

"First off you wouldn't wake, and then when you did, you were just gettin' sick every time we tried to get you some water. The Doc and his nurse and I were kept pretty busy with that. After that, you didn't know who you were or anythin'. Just kept asking me who I was and such. Kept talking nonsense and wouldn't listen to reason." Buck couldn't keep the concern from his voice.

"Did I say anything, untoward?" Ezra looked alarmed. "Anything that might be found… unconscionable?"

Buck laughed again, glad to hear words that he didn't quite understand -- glad that it was because of Ezra's vocabulary this time. "You weren't sayin' much of anything I recognized, hoss," Buck replied. "You were just confused mostly."

Ezra lifted his hands and stared at them, as if he expected the socks to appear again. Bits of wool clung to his cuticles to remind him of their recent existence. "Why?" he asked again, looking pleadingly toward Buck.

"I'm sorry, Ez. We had to do it. Couldn't let you do any more harm." Buck's voice betrayed his reluctance to impart that information.

Ezra looked aghast. "What did I do? Did I hurt anyone?"

"Aw, Ez, no, no -- no one but yourself. Your head was hurtin' you so bad… it's understandable that you were tryin' to get it to stop. We had to tie you down to keep you safe sometimes. Not real often, but sometimes."

Confusion crossed the gambler's face as he tried to remember and failed. He rubbed his wrists, attempting to recall how the restraints might have felt. "What did I do?"

"Scratched your head a bit. Doc says it'll heal okay if we get you to leave it alone. That's all. That's the only reason we did it." Buck tried to keep the information as simple as possible.

Ezra's eyes focused on the bits of wool. "I'm heartily sorry for any inconvenience that…"

"Shut up about that," Buck cut him off. "Inconvenience ain't the right word for it. You scared the shit out of me."

"How…" Ezra's voice came quieter as he tried to remember. "How did I…arrive in this pitiful state?"

"Don't remember anythin' about it?" Buck leaned forward. "Do you remember what we were all doin'? How it started? Where we are?"

"We were headin' to Tascosa," Ezra murmured. "To clear Vin's good name. -- a noble outing. You, me, Vin, Chris…" he frowned, trying to remember in spite of the horrible headache, "…and Josiah. We'd been out for…some time I think. I recall you singing at the campfire… an atrocious song. Josiah called you a heathen. Crossed a river. We saw wild horses -- one almost pure white. It would probably be worth the fuss of catching for sale. I tried to convince Vin, but he was intent on his purpose." Ezra paused. "Chris… he found a trail through a canyon that should have been a shortcut, but it proved difficult country -- put us days behind schedule. Vin killed a deer and we feasted. Gave the rest to some settlers, I believe."

"Yeah, that's right," Buck replied, happy to note that Ezra seemed to have most of his memory.

"There was a town, Digby…with a saloon called 'Black Speck'. We decided it would be a safe place to spend the night."

Buck smiled sadly. "Yeah, Ez."

"I had a profitable evening. Made enough to replenish our supplies…" He blinked, trying to remember. "I was going to replace… your rifle. You lost it at the … canyon. It would be unwise to continue without a new one, but…" He closed his eyes, forcing his erring mind to work correctly. "It was morning. You all were preparing to go. I recall the gun-shop and…making a decision." He turned his head, as if shifting the position of his brain might allow it to function properly. "The proprietor, Mr. Stowe, he was wearing a blue shirt. His hat was layin' on the counter. It was black with a gold band." He moved his hand forward, as if to lay his hand on the crown of the hat. "He had a ring on his finger, gold -- wedding band -- with a small blue stone. His wife was there. She wore a white ribbon in her hair. Her dress was pale yellow with little purple flowers printed on the cloth. She held her hands crossed in front of her. A thin bracelet and a locket. A cobweb in the upper right hand corner of the shop was vibrating in the breeze from the window." He raised his hand as if to touch the remembered web, and then slammed his fist down on the bed, frustrated at his inability to remember what mattered.

"Couple of guys came in, Ez," Buck supplied patiently. "They tried to rob the shop. Wanted a load of guns, I reckon, but you got in the way." He sighed. "You were trying to protect the Stowes and almost got those guys under control when their friend showed up. They rushed you and held you down. Then, to keep you quiet, they hit you upside the head real hard with one of those rifles you were looking at -- the one you were about to buy for me."

Ezra raised his hand and gingerly touched the side of his head.

"Stowe sounded the alarm and folks came running from everywhere. Chris and Vin caught the fellers as they tried to run off. I was tryin' to quiet down Stowe and his wife. Josiah was the first one to come into the shop. You were in awful shape, bleeding real bad. You were just kinda sprawled out on the floor in all that blood. You weren't movin'. Josiah couldn't tell if you were breathin' a'tall -- thought you were dead. I think it broke that man's heart to find you like that."

"I don't remember…" Ezra whispered, resting his hand on the sore spot.

"You wouldn't, Ez." He nodded to Ezra's head. "You got an awful bad whack on the head. The Doc had to shave off half your hair to get it all stitched up. Lord, you looked a fright." Buck could smile about it now.

"My hair?" Ezra gasped, feeling through the bandage and looking horrified at the possibility. He glanced about the room as if to find a mirror.

"After that, me and the doc and his nurse looked after you. It'll be two weeks come tomorrow. You were awake some of the time, but not really with us at all."

"I don't remember…" Ezra sighed again. "It's just…gone…" he made a gesture with his other hand, open palmed, as if releasing a captive bird.

"It's probably better that way. You don't need to recall anythin' else."

Ezra nodded, looking like a child who just received an unacceptable explanation for something. "Where…"

Buck waited for the question to finish, and then asked. "Where's what, Ez?"

"The others… where are Josiah, Vin and Chris?"

Buck looked sullen. "They had to go on to Tascosa. They stayed as long as they could and it tore them up to go, but that witness was only going to be there for so long. Josiah needed to be there to help Vin with his case. Chris had to be with Vin … and Vin, well, you know. They would've stayed if they could. I swear, Ezra, they were all worried sick about you and didn't want to go."

"Did they make it? To Tascosa?"

Buck smiled. "Yeah, they got there the day-before-yesterday. The trial's today. Should be gettin' notice from them any minute now. Damn it, Ezra, soon as I can, I'm gonna run a message off to the telegraph office and let everyone know you're okay. Gotta get word to Doc Templeton too. It's gonna be one hell of a good day for all of us. Not only if we get Vin's name cleared, but to hear you talkin' sensible and knowin' your name and all."

Ezra smiled wistfully. "Wish I could've gone with them. I might've been able to lend assistance in the case."

"Josiah will get along just fine, you'll see. They all were plenty upset about goin', Ezra. Each of them wanted to stay on to make sure you were okay."

"But it was imperative to reach Tascosa on time," Ezra completed his thought. "Vin deserves to have a name, free and clear. A man deserves a name. They did the right thing." He turned to Buck. "You should've gone as well."

"No, not me!" Buck quickly responded. "I had other things to take care of." He patted the southerner on the shoulder. "Had to keep an eye on you. Had to stay here and keep tellin' you what your name was every time you asked."

Buck sat back, remembering the horrible days after the robbery at the gun shop. Josiah would have rather stayed. He would have preferred to send Buck along to Tascosa and to keep himself here in Digby. He had fretted and fussed, tortured by the thoughts of unwanted possibilities. Finally, he knew that he was needed at the trial -- a silver-tongued devil might be critical to Vin's case. Sanchez had hoped that Ezra would be there with him though. He had seen several the contracts that the gambler had drawn up around town and knew that this man was more familiar with legal mumbo-jumbo than he let on. Josiah's presence in Tascosa had become critical -- so he had to leave the gambler behind in Wilmington's trusted care.

Vin had refused to leave the cardsharp's bed at first, blaming himself for what happened -- Ezra never would have gotten hurt if he'd just stayed home, just stayed in Four Corners with Nathan and JD as was originally planned. The gambler had added himself to the adventure at the last minute, coming along to see if his knowledge of the law (or rather his knowledge of how to get around the law -- as he put it) would come in handy in freeing Vin's name. Buck had caught Standish stashing several heavy-looking books onto one of the packhorses, calling it 'light-reading.' The books were cracked open every evening at the fireside and Ezra had studied them silently, taking notes, marking pages, looking for anything that might help the case.

It was Larabee, finally, that forced Vin to go -- knowing that time was important and they'd lost too much of it already. "Gotta get a-movin'," Larabee had stated. "We'll lose this chance if we don't go now."

"Can't leave him," Vin had responded. "Gotta make sure he's okay."

"He won't be okay if he wakes up and finds out you fucked up this chance," was Larabee's response. "He'll hate himself if he finds out what you did." And so Vin left, with Larabee tugging him out the door.

Buck could read Chris well enough to see how very hard it was for the gunslinger to leave like this -- not knowing if Ezra was even going to wake up -- but he had to go, for Vin's sake. He blamed himself for the ill-advised detour that brought them through Digby instead of another town on another route, and Larabee had been determined to be there when the gambler awoke, but Ezra never did open his eyes while they waited.

Before they left, Chris had pulled Buck aside and said, "Stay with him, Buck," as if there'd been any question about that. But Wilmington understood. He'd stay for all of them.

Every time the group came to a new town, they'd send back inquiries. And every day, Buck had to field the questions -- not only from them, but from Nathan and JD in Four Corners as well. It was heartbreaking to send back bad news every day. "STILL HASN'T WOKE." "WOKE TODAY BUT NOT TALKING SENSE." "SICK - VERY SICK." "CANT REMEMBER HIS NAME." "HE'S STILL NOT RIGHT -- TALKING CRAZY." "DOC TEMPLETON IS WORRIED." "TROUBLE TODAY. NEEDED TO TIE HIM DOWN."

Buck glanced at Ezra's bandaged head, recalling the times that he'd had to hold back Ezra's bloody hands to keep him from further clawing at his pain-filled head – not often, but even once would have been more than enough. It was heart wrenching to hear the pitiful cry of, "It hurts!" and "Make it stop!" over and over. It took all of their strength to keep the gambler from further injuring himself, from tearing through his skin in his agonized frenzy. Templeton's nurse, Frieda, had come up with the idea of 'socking' his hands to protect him, but not before he'd managed to open the healing wound more than once, and tear gouges into his bare head. The bandages were for these new injuries and not the original one. _Don't worry, Ez,_ Buck thought. _Your hair will grow back and cover the worst of it. No one need know._

Wilmington had been frightened when Ezra had calmed down and started talking again, sounding like a simpleton, constantly asking the same damned questions over and over again and never appearing to have comprehended the answers. Ezra had asked, "Who are you?" a hundred times, and Buck responded one hundred times with his name, and Ezra would reply with, "Do I know you?" How many different ways could Buck say, "I'm your friend," and receive that vacant and confused look in return?

And Ezra'd ask for his own name constantly. "My name? What's my name?" The question would be frantic, as if he needed that small piece of information to hold onto, but was constantly losing it.

_Damn that rifle! If he hadn't lost it into that damnable gorge…!_

Buck had spent many distressed evenings, praying that the cardsharp returned to his senses -- _please don't leave him like this. It ain't right!_

Doc Templeton had told him that everything might be okay, but nearly two weeks had passed without ANYTHING being okay -- until now, until Ezra Standish opened those green eyes and finally recognized him -- called him by name. Buck never thought he'd be so pleased hearing his name uttered by that cardsharp.

Wilmington smiled, imagining Vin and Chris crowded around Josiah as the immanent telegram was received -- or Nathan and JD back at home. They'd read it together and smile, they'd 'whoop', they'd slap each other on the back and laugh. Nathan could finally relax. Wilmington was fairly sure that Jackson had worried himself crazy over the insensible southerner.

Nathan's telegrams came twice a day -- always filled with advice -- always demanding precise information that Buck really wasn't willing to give. How could he tell Nathan that Ezra clawed up his scalp? How could he say that Ezra sounded like a two-year-old? How could he say that Ezra didn't know him, didn't know anyone? Today, he'd have no trouble sending information to Nathan.

JD, he could imagine, would be incredibly relieved. The poor kid felt everything too deeply. He knew that Ezra had had a long conversation with JD before leaving, probably making sure that Dunne was okay with the revised situation -- that he wasn't required in Four Corners -- that the sheriff and the healer could adequately protect the town without him. JD probably agonized over that now, wishing he'd asked Ezra to stay.

"Buck?" Ezra waved his hand in front of Wilmington's eyes, startling him. The gambler's face looked concerned as he tried to garner the ladies' man's attention. "Are you okay, Buck?"

Wilmington smiled, realizing that his mind was wandering. "Yeah, sure."

Ezra smiled. "I thought perhaps it was contagious." Buck laughed, glad just to have the right to laugh again, when Ezra asked, "My hair… is it that bad?"

"It'll grow, Ezra!"

Ezra looked unsure. "But it was one of my best features."

Buck was about to respond when a gentle rap on the door drew his attention away. Young Donald from the telegraph office peeped in. "Got one for you, Mr. Wilmington," the boy said quietly. His gaze drifted to the figure in the bed and he stepped back slightly, seeing that the sick man was awake. That sometimes meant that things were about to get scary.

Buck strode forward and gave the kid a coin for the message, and then handed him another coin. "Go tell Doc Templeton that Ezra's awake…and aware! Make sure you say, 'awake AND aware.' Come back after that with your pad 'cause I'll have a message or two to send."

Donald nodded, turning and muttering, "Awake and aware," as he hurried off.

"Does it concern Vin?" Ezra asked excitedly, motioning toward the telegram. "Is it…is everything okay?"

Buck sat down again beside the bed and unfolded the wire. He scanned the message first, not wanting to disappoint Ezra just now. Lord, don't let this be bad news. He'd lie if he had to, tell Standish that the note was from Nathan or something. He smiled as he read through the words.

"Buck!" Ezra cried urgently, and winced at his own loud voice. "What does it say?"

Buck grinned. "They did it! That witness …Josiah says he used that book of yours that had…"

"Buck!" Ezra called, flinching again. "The verdict?"

Buck nodded. "Not Guilty."

Ezra smiled, leaning back against the pillows. "The terrible price has been lifted. Mr. Tanner's name is once again his own. A most satisfactory conclusion."

"Yeah, that's one way to say it." Buck slapped his knee again. "Gotta say it, Ez. I'm damn happy." He rattled the paper and declared, "Vin gets his named cleared and, hell, you finally know your own and mine to boot. It's a hell of a good day."

"Ibelieve it was Cervantes who said, '_A good name is better than riches'_," Ezra said offhand.

"That true?" Buck inquired, intrigued that Ezra would make such a claim.

Ezra shrugged as if he couldn't make heads or tails of the comment. He maneuvered his hand to the bed-stand and picked up the nearly empty cup. "To good names, both regained and cleared."

"Amen to that, brother," Buck said with a wink, and refilled the glass with water after Ezra emptied it.

**TBC**


	2. A Good Name II

**A GOOD NAME - II**_  
By NotTasha...who still has a dandy name_

Vin smiled. He remembered smiling when the verdict was read, and Chris pounding his back. He shook Josiah's hand and thanked the jury and the judge, thanked the witness for his time. Papers were signed, more hands needed shaking and a whirlwind of activity had brought him here, to this table in the saloon in a town named Tascosa. The name had long drawn trepidation in the heart of the tracker – but here he was, a free man in that dreaded town.

A bottle was ordered and then appeared before him. A glass was filled. He tipped it back, emptying it to be filled again. His name was his own. He had the papers to prove it. He patted his pocket to ensure they were still there, and then pulled the pages out to gaze upon them again.

A notary's mark on the lower corner proved their importance. He ran his callused thumb along the impression left by the stamp. His eyes fastened on his name -- his own name -- printed out in careful letters. This was the most important document he'd ever held.

His inside-out world had been turned right-side-in and he wasn't quite able to figure it all out just yet. He gazed at the pages, wondering if he could understand it all if he just stared for long enough. He could struggle with the lettering and possibly read the words -- but it was all so difficult to comprehend just yet.

He folded the documents again, carefully because they were so important, and returned them to his pocket. He'd keep them close to him at all times because they declared him 'not guilty' and freed him, because they gave him back his good name.

For the first time in years, he could get damn drunk and not have to worry about the bounty over his head. He could let his guard down. Of course, someone might come looking for him for other reasons. He'd brought in plenty of bounties himself and was certainly hated by many -- but he wasn't worried about that right now. It was his plan to get as numb as possible -- drunk enough to forget everything -- everything except the fact that he'd won the trial and was a free man now. Forget everything else.

Four weeks ago, this had been nothing but a dream – a lofty and unattainable thing. He'd stayed in Four Corners for all that time despite the fact that he could be easily hunted down there, cornered and captured. He stayed… why? Because he was happy. He liked the place and its people, the men he worked with -- liked the whole kit-and-caboodle. It was silly and foolish to stay, but he did it anyway and dreamed of a freed name.

Three weeks ago a letter arrived in Four Corners, from an old friend in Tascosa. A witness had stepped forward, capable of clearing his name. He'd only need to come to town for the trial. Was it just a con to lure him into the grasp of the court? No, the information was researched and found to be legitimate, so they prepared to go – before the witness continued on his way or changed his mind.

Chris came with him – there had been no question about that. He'd promised his company from the start. Buck came because he loved the idea of the adventure. Ezra had made sounds as if he'd planned to go, but then Josiah stepped forward, offering his help. The odds hadn't been in their favor at the trial of Obediah Jackson, but now they had a fighting chance. Sanchez would stand beside Vin in court. Ezra stopped his subtle inquiries.

JD was sheriff. Nathan was the town's healer. They'd stay behind and do their jobs. Ezra declared the benefits of a feather bed and a roof over his head, stating he'd remain in Four Corners as well. Yet, as they prepared to leave, the cardsharp came riding out of the livery with a pack horse and nodded to them as they gathered. The con man said that he'd run into a recent spate of bad luck at the tables and felt a change in venue was in order. He'd always felt the saloons in Texas were favorable to him and decided this was as good a time as any to try them again.

Chris balked at first, concerned about the town and if it would be adequately protected without a third lawman. Ezra supplied that he'd discussed the fact with JD, and let Larabee know that the Stoker brothers were in residence. The ranchers would aid the young sheriff and the healer. After the Stokers had served a term, other gentlemen from the area had agreed to lend their help. It was all worked out, he'd explained. After Larabee had confirmed this with Dunne, Ezra was accepted into the group and they left Four Corners.

They headed out into the open land, toward a place that Vin had long contemplated.

It surprised Vin how much he'd enjoyed the trip at the start. The five men got along well, with nary a fight. They'd kidded around the campfire, saw beautiful country and found hardly any trouble… until they took a shortcut. It looked like an intelligent move, but the cutoff took them through a canyon that proved too difficult for easy passage. By the time they'd found their way out of it, they were argumentative, tired, behind schedule and short on supplies. A packhorse had lost its footing as they crossed a treacherous area. Buck and his horse almost followed the poor creature as they tried to retrieve it. He had been able to snag the lost horse, save his own and himself, but lost his rifle, and the animal's load in the scramble.

They came into the town of Digby to replenish lost supplies and get a good night's rest. That was two weeks ago.

Vin downed another drink, remembering the morning of their departure from Digby. Ezra had slipped a fold of cash into his hand, telling him to get some '_edible'_ foodstuffs this time. Ezra'd been at the tables all night, turning his small reserve into a much larger one, getting an angry glare from Larabee who'd told him to get some sleep. Still, the evening's work provided them with enough money to replace the losses.

They'd spoken for a moment or two after the money was exchanged. Vin commenting that the cash would buy enough hardtack and jerky to hold them for a while. Ezra grimaced theatrically, and had said, "Please, Mr. Tanner, my constitution wouldn't allow for such." The gambler had smiled then and told him that he'd be back momentarily. Vin couldn't remember if he'd said goodbye. He remembered Ezra's smile though. It made Vin think that Ezra was happy about the journey, too – that he was enjoying himself in spite of the recent difficulties.

After that, the gambler headed to the gun shop. Vin knew that Ezra wanted to replace Buck's missing weapon. He'd probably just hand it to Wilmington as they were headed out of town, with the explanation that he'd purchased the expensive thing to keep his own life safe. If Buck declared he'd pay Ezra back, the con man would say that he'd get the money out of him at the poker tables soon enough. And that would be the end of it – except it never happened, Ezra never did have the chance to hand Buck that rifle and shrug it off.

Vin had just stepped out of the general store when he heard a woman shouting, "Help! They're killing him! Help!"

He dropped his box as three men raced out of the gun shop, laden with rifles, pistols and ammunition. The idiots didn't realize that the firearms weren't loaded, that they were too damned overburdened to even defend themselves. Larabee appeared from somewhere, and Josiah and Buck. The three outlaws, with enough gun power to equip a small army, were overtaken easily.

Buck tried to calm down the folks from the shop. The woman was crying and the man talking quickly, saying how it all happened – two outlaws had come in and the fellow who was buying a rifle held the robbers off until the third arrived through the side door. The three thieves were able to overpower the man and split his head open with the butt of a rifle.

"Ezra!" Vin remembered shouting the gambler's name and looking toward Josiah. The preacher's face went white and he ran immediately to the shop.

Vin had glared at the outlaw in his grips and saw the rifle in the man's possession – a Winchester lever-action – a nice match to the lost one. The butt of it was bloody. _Hurry, Josiah_, he'd thought as he held down his man and as Chris found reason to belt the man he was holding. Tanner couldn't help but shove his man around a little more, seeing that blood on the rifle that looked just like Buck's lost one. The third man trembled on the ground near Larabee, knowing that he was next if he got out of line.

The lawmen from Digby finally got in motion and were able to take the thieves off their hands. It was good that they did, because Chris' eyes had gone dark when he'd heard the woman say they'd killed the man in the shop.

Free of his prisoner, Vin ran to the store. The gun shop owner almost mowed him down as he hurried out to find the town's doctor. Vin would never forget the scene that greeted him. Josiah was sitting on the floor, with Ezra half pulled into his lap, muttering quietly to him and holding him close. There was a dark pool of blood on the floor, and soaked into Ezra's clothing. Buck was squatting beside the gambler, trying to stem the flow from a terrible gash across the side of his bruised head.

Ezra didn't move at all.

It was already crowded in that small place, so Vin stood in the doorway. Larabee arrived, and would have squeezed himself inside as well, but the young doctor shoved him away and there was no more room. They crowded around the bleeding man, trying to help, finally picking him up and toting him away.

And Ezra never moved.

Vin had followed the procession to the doctor's clinic. The physician seemed adequate enough. Buck, Josiah and Larabee held Ezra down as the doctor used a straightedge razor to cut away the hair on the wounded side of his head. Vin would have crowded in, too, but there was no place for him at the bed. He could only stand back and watch.

They had to keep Ezra still with that sharp implement being wielded so close to his scalp, but there was no need to hold him. Ezra was as still as a statue, but the three men didn't remove their hands as the doctor worked. They held tightly to him, and Josiah continued to speak softly, sometimes in quiet words of encouragement, sometimes in prayer.

Vin stood apart, watching as the nurse, a young woman with frizzy brown hair, handed the doctor what was called for. He wanted to help, but there was no room for him. He could only stand out of the way.

God, Ezra looked awful, with his hair half-gone and that blood-soaked jacket, his head all bruised and gashed open – the doctor stitching his skin closed again like cloth.

Once Ezra was shaved and stitched and cleaned and bandaged and settled in a bed, Larabee tried to draw Vin away, but he couldn't move. Finally there was room for him and he sat beside the bed. He grasped onto the gambler because he couldn't before. He held onto him because he had to.

Finally, after one long day and a sleepless night, Chris pulled him from the room and they headed on their way. It was like a dream. One minute he was in the doctor's office, hanging onto Ezra and waiting for him to awaken, the next minute he was riding off with Chris and Josiah, leaving Ezra and Buck behind. Did they really leave Ezra and Buck behind in that little town called Digby?

How could he do that? Just leave them? He couldn't remember if he said goodbye. There never was enough time to say adequate good-byes.

The journey that had started off as an enjoyable adventure, became a sorrowful trek. Buck kept them informed as they moved on, but every telegram they received only brought bleaker news. They'd cheered when they received word that Ezra had awakened, but the news that followed was heartbreaking. By the time they finally reached Tascosa, they were all worried that the worst would come of this.

A man came by the table to offer congratulations. Vin nodded and hunched over his glass. "Must be the best day of your life, huh? Bet you're happy!" the man said and Vin looked up at him in disbelief.

Yes, it should be the best day in his life – to have this long desired prize -- finally. He should be happy, instead he felt like crap. It had all come crashing down on him as the verdict was read and he was declared a free man. He should be happy.

_Wish I'd at least told him, 'goodbye,'_ Vin thought. _Wish I'd thanked him for coming because he didn't have to. Wish I didn't have to leave him behind._

He filled the glass and drank it down again, then stared for a long time at the quivering line that marked the level of the liquid in the bottle.

A shadow moved before him and came to sit beside him. It took the bottle, making the line jump, and filled another glass. "Vin," the shadow said. "I've been lookin' for ya."

"Found me," Vin responded, snatching the bottle back from Chris to refill his glass. He settled the bottle before him again to stare at the line.

He hadn't hidden. He'd found the saloon closest to the courthouse. Larabee had headed first to their room at the hotel, went to check on the horses and then started circling back. A man who'd seen the trial told him where the missing tracker was currently ensconced.

The two men drank in silence and Vin waited to be numbed. The line lowered until it almost touched the bottom of the bottle. He tore his attention from it and looked up to Larabee. "Don't tell me to be happy," he snapped.

"Won't do that, Vin," Chris replied, emptying the bottle into his glass, taking away the line, and signaling for more whiskey.

"I should be happy," Vin stated. "Should be damn fuckin' happy."

The telegrams from Buck had been disheartening. Ezra couldn't hold a thought, didn't recognize Buck, didn't know his own name, had to be tied down sometimes to keep him from scratching up his head because of the pain. _God, he must be in a heap of hurt, _Vin thought, wiping his upper lip on his sleeve.

The doctor had said that Ezra might never get any better. How in the hell could that happen? It seemed so wrong for the clever con man to be left so mindless. It just wasn't fair.

Vin didn't want to think about what they'd have to do when they returned to Digby. Would they have to put Ezra in an asylum if he didn't improve? Should they just contact Maude and put him into her hands? God, what would happen to him then? They'd have to keep him from Maude. The woman was his mother, but damn it if she didn't act like it. Sometimes Vin wondered if she ever had his best interests in mind.

Vin sighed. How could he be happy with something as pointless as a cleared name when Ezra couldn't even remember his own? It was a shitty exchange, Vin decided. If he could, he'd turn it all back. Why did Ezra even come along? If he'd just stayed in Four Corners, then nothing would have happened and everyone would be safe and whole.

Except maybe that couple who owned the gun shop. They might be dead. Those outlaws might have shot up some other folks with all those guns. They had been planning a robbery with their buddies in another town. The law from Digby had managed to round up that other group as well. So no one got hurt, except for those three thieves who were probably still nursing their broken noses and bruised jaw -- and Ezra who was lying in a bed, not knowing his own name and acting crazy.

"Fuckin' happy," Vin murmured again, finishing his drink and grabbing for the bottle that had somehow reappeared at the table. Chris lifted it away from Vin's grasping reach and once the tracker lowered his hand, he filled the glasses.

"We'll finish things up here and head back," Chris said solemnly, settling the bottle on the far side of the table.

"Yeah," Vin replied, downing the shot. Why wasn't he numb yet? Why wasn't he fucking happy yet? He could recall Ezra sitting at the fireside as they camped, scanning through the books, taking notes and later discussing it all with Josiah. Vin wanted to tell Ezra that those books helped. The lawyer who represented the dead man had pulled a couple of punches that they weren't expecting, but those books provided the answers to fix it all.

Wish I could tell you that those books helped, Ezra. Vin stared at the empty glass again, feeling it with his fingers, wishing that he was beyond these thoughts and able to experience the happiness that he'd been searching out for so long.

A large form made it to the table and stood there for a while, until the tracker gazed at him. Josiah looked concerned when their eyes met, and then spoke to Chris. "I sent off the telegrams as soon as we got the verdict. Got this one just a minute ago. It's from Digby." He held the folded paper carefully.

That was Josiah for you. Chris would have read it right off, but Josiah always waited until they were together. He couldn't quite face the words alone.

"Go ahead," Chris said, filling a third glass for the preacher, refilling his own and Tanner's. Sanchez downed the drink before opening the paper. Vin finished his latest glass and pushed it back toward Larabee. Josiah sighed as he saw the long message. Long messages usually meant bad news.

"VIN," he solemnly read the first word. "I HAD NO DOUBT THAT YOU WOULD SUCCEED. I WISH I COULD HAVE BEEN THERE BUT KNOW THAT I WAS WITH YOU IN SPIRIT. ENJOY YOUR NEW FREEDOM. YOU DESERVE THIS MY FRIEND. CONGRATULATIONS. ALSO I UNDERSTAND THAT THERES BEEN SOME CONCERN FOR ME. WORRY NOT. MY SENSES ARE SOMEWHAT ADDLED BUT RETURNING…" Josiah trailed off, his mouth dropping open for a moment.

Chris looked up, his eyes sharp and a grin forming on his lips. "Ezra," he muttered.

Vin brought his gaze away from the shot glass, not ready to make such assumptions yet. "Finish it!" he demanded.

"UNFORTUNATELY I HAVE AN INCREDIBLE HEADACHE. DR TEMPLETON IS WORSE THAN NATHAN WITH HIS REMEDIES. HE WILL POISON ME IN NO TIME. BUCK SENDS HIS REGARDS. INSTRUCT HIM PLEASE TO GET SOME REST. SINCEREST REGARDS EZRA."

Vin felt Chris clamp a hand down on his shoulder and he let go his grip on the glass. Josiah was laughing, but damn if it didn't look as if he was crying. Chris shook his head, grinning like a fool.

"How," Josiah started, and then began anew. "Last time I heard from Buck, he said that Ezra'd been sleeping all day." The preacher had been frightened by that news, wondering if it was a sleep that Ezra would never awaken from.

"Couldn't say, Josiah," Chris said as he refilled the glasses. "Doesn't matter, I 'spect, when you consider that the fool just sent us a $20 telegram. To Ezra," he extolled as he held his glass aloft. "Glad to have him back with us."

"Welcome back," Josiah responded, lifting his glass as well. And then whispered, "Thank you, Lord."

Vin smiled and toasted along with the rest, glad that he wasn't as numb as he'd hoped.

They downed their liquor and slammed the glasses down on the table, drawing curious looks from the other bar patrons. They smiled, probably for the first time in two weeks. Chris filled the glasses again, but Vin wasn't really interested anymore.

He glanced across to Josiah, his eyes fastening on the flimsy paper still clutched in his hand. He reached, and Josiah handed it over. Chris and Josiah toasted again as the tracker gazed at the lettering for a while. He grinned, knowing that the words declared that Ezra was once again with them. From his pocket he pulled the papers that declared his cleared name. He carefully added the telegram to the documents and returned them to his pocket. The papers would stay together for as long as he held them.

**TBC**


	3. A Good Name III

**A GOOD NAME -- III **  
_By NotTasha_

"I don't have to tell you nothin'," the idiot in the cell replied, leaning back on the cot and crossing his feet. It was a scrawny-looking outlaw -- dirty and missing a few teeth

"Well," JD said, gesturing over his work. "I gotta write somethin'."

"Not gonna say," the two-bit thief declared. "You cain't make me." He lifted his pointy little chin in defiance.

"Alright then," Dunne said as he dipped his pen into the ink and then brought it to paper. "I'll just have to fill it in with -- Dumb Ass."

"What?" the fool replied sharply, watching the sheriff lift the pen to the paper. "No, no! That ain't right. You're supposed to write John Doe if you don't got a name."

"Dumb Ass," JD reiterated. "Seems more fitting to me."

"You cain't do that!" the man shouted and then added, "You're supposed to fill those out right, like a good officer of the law."

JD shrugged. "Don't feel so accommodatin' right now and you ain't givin' me anything to go by. Dumb Ass seems good to me."

"My name is Head. Richard Head!"

"Dick Head," JD figured.

"NO!" Dick jumped to his feet and ran to the cell door. His hands grasped the bars tightly. "It ain't Dick! My name ain't never been Dick. It's Richard! Or Rich…sometimes Rick. And when I was a kid they called me Ricky, but never Dick."

"Dick Head," JD said again, writing. "Too bad you weren't in the army. You might have come out of that as Major Dick Head."

Head's face grew red. "Don't you start with that!" He waggled his finger at Dunne. "I could'a been an officer 'cept that the men were poisoned against me."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dunne muttered as he continued to fill in the document. He yawned as the outlaw fumed.

"Might 'ave stood a chance in the army," Dick Head said, pacing, "'cept they couldn't stop mocking me for my name. I had to show 'em not to make fun of me. They threw me in the stockade."

"Doesn't surprise me," JD said with a shake of his head.

'They didn't know who they were dealing with!" Head said, striking his chest.

Yeah, JD thought, another dick-head. Dunne was just glad that there hadn't been too many of his ilk hanging around the town lately. The atmosphere had been remarkably quiet. He'd been anxious since Vin and the others left, worried about what sort of trouble would hit the town with it so poorly protected, but it was as if Strife had taken a holiday and a calm had descended. The worst he had to deal with was petty thieves such as this one with the ridiculous name.

He wished Chris, Buck, Josiah and everyone would come back soon, but their journey was only halfway over -- three weeks into their absence and they had just made it to Tascosa to clear Vin's name. Well, some of them had made it that far. Buck and Ezra had been left along the way.

He rubbed his neck as he filled out the form -- describing the things that Dick Head tried to steal from the general store and how he'd shoved it all down his pants in the getaway. He'd be tried for theft and probably would end up paying a fine or spend a day or two behind bars. All in a day's work.

As he wrote, JD recalled the day, three weeks ago, when five of his friends left town. It was sad to watch them ride away. Part of him wanted to go with them, but he had an important job to do here; he was Sheriff and had to protect the town. He didn't regret his choice. He could only wish them a safe journey and hope they returned soon.

Well, things didn't work out so well for those travelers. He and Nathan had been in contact with the others via telegram and had heard of Vin's progress toward Tascosa with Chris and Josiah, and Ezra's lack of progress in Digby with Buck.

Dunne wished he'd had some inkling about what was going to happen back when all this started. He wished somehow that he'd known Ezra was going to get hurt. He might have been able to stop that from happening by keeping the cardsharp in town. It could have been easily accomplished by simply asking Ezra to stay.

JD could replay the conversation they'd had, when Ezra came to him with a serious face, asking him if he could go with the others -- as if JD Dunne had any control over the actions of one Ezra P. Standish. Still, the sheriff had heard the sincerity in the gambler's voice as he asked, as they had talked together and came to the decision that Ezra could go. They'd come up with a list of possible candidates for short-term assistants, lining them up to fill in the gap. JD remembered Ezra smiling sincerely when they realized he could accompany Vin and the others without leaving JD or the town in the lurch.

Ezra would have stayed, JD knew. All he'd had to do was voice the slightest doubt, the smallest concern and the gambler would have remained in Four Corners. He would have nodded and complied and said nothing to anyone about it. He probably would have sat back on the boardwalk as the others prepared to go and given them a few words of encouragement. He could just as easily have taunted them for their rough road ahead -- reminded them that he'd be comfortable in feather bed while they lounged on hard rocks, he'd be eating hot meals adequately prepared at a decent restaurant while they subsisted on jerky and tack. You could never tell for sure how Ezra would have acted.

Of course, it was all conjecture now. Right now, Standish wasn't saying anything that made sense, lying in a bed with his brains bashed in.

JD shook his head, not wanting to linger on that image.

And what about Vin's trial? What would happen if the verdict was returned as 'guilty'? Vin had been assured that the witness could clear him -- but what if something went wrong. Then Vin Tanner would hang. JD felt his neck at the thought. How could they hang an innocent man? Someone like Vin certainly didn't deserve that!

Why had Vin risked his life anyway? He was safe here in Four Corners. If he'd just stayed put there'd be no cause for alarm -- no reason for Dunne to be so concerned. Everything could 'ave just been fine if he'd stayed. '_Gotta find him innocent,' _JD thought. '_Vin's gotta be able to clear his name'_ -- it was the only acceptable outcome.

JD remembered the telegrams that Buck had sent, sadly stating that Ezra couldn't even remember his own name. It was a horrible thing for the quick-witted and fun-loving gambler. JD remembered how easily Ezra had rattled off the names of possible candidates for temporary lawmen -- how could he have lost track of his own?

JD looked at where he'd written DICK HEAD on the form. He carefully crossed out DICK and wrote RICHARD over the mistake. _A man shouldn't mess with another's name, _he thought.

He looked to the window when he noted someone looking in -- Nathan. The healer nodded when their eyes met, then signaled to him that he was going to go down the street before he came back to take up his shift. JD knew where Jackson was going -- to the telegraph office.

Nathan went there four or five times a day, looking for incoming wires or sending new ones. When news concerning Ezra first reached the town, Nathan had been beside himself with worry. They'd been assured that Digby had a doctor who'd look after Standish, but Jackson couldn't leave it at that. He had to supply the Dr. Templeton with a continuous steam of advice and ideas. Templeton seemed to take the help in stride, answering his questions with more honesty than Buck would. The truth of those answers sometimes distressed the healer. He'd wring his hands after receiving the newest message and mutter, "I should 'ave gone along, too."

Today, the news would include Vin's fate. It made JD's gut clench just to think of it. Today, they'd learn if Vin were to swing or walk away a free man. He sighed, realizing that if the verdict was 'guilty,' Chris wouldn't allow Vin to die for it. He and Vin would disappear if at all possible, and probably Josiah with them. They'd go to Mexico… or maybe Bolivia … or Argentina, or maybe right off the end of Cape Horn.

And what if Ezra were to die? The last message said that he'd fallen into a deep sleep. What if he never woke up from that? JD knew that Buck would be torn apart. '_He's a sensitive guy,'_ JD thought. Buck might not come back if he'd failed to bring Ezra with him. Even if Ezra were to end up in some sort of a Crazy Hospital, JD doubted he'd see Wilmington again. No, he'd just go away… maybe catch up to Vin and Chris in Bolivia if it came to that.

Everything might change today, JD realized. God, he wanted it to go back to how it was before they all left. He needed them to return. It was so lonely in town without them.

After watching the healer head toward the telegraph office, JD returned his attention to the prisoner. Head was babbling on about something, but JD wasn't really paying attention. "I'll give you a nickel if you shut up," JD offered.

Richard looked stunned. "What?"

"A nickel. All you got to do is shut your yap for a while." Head looked disgusted, so JD upped the ante. "How about 10 cents?"

"Make it two-bits and you got yourself a deal," the prisoner said.

JD pulled the necessary coin out of his pocket and slammed them down on the desk. "It's yours if you keep shut for the next hour!"

Mr. Head squeezed his mouth shut and glared back at the sheriff.

Mr. Juje at the telegraph office was annoyed. Nathan started swooping into that office far too often for the cranky telegraph operator's liking. Usually, he'd send one of his boys out the second an important message hit his shop, but he'd stopped the practice recently for Nathan. He knew the healer would be back in the office soon enough and then, if he'd kept the message in the shop, he'd at least have something to hand to the impatient healer.

JD picked up the coin and tapped it on the desk, ignoring the man who looked hungrily at the money. JD sighed realizing that this one probably didn't have the money to pay a fine and would take jail time instead. Richard Head would end up being his companion for the week. He hoped the time passed quickly.

The sheriff jumped to his feet when he heard the sound of someone running down the boardwalk, quick footsteps reverberating on the wood. He sucked in his breath, expecting trouble, then caught sight of Nathan grinning as he reached the door and flung it back.

"JD!" Jackson shouted, grasping the notes in his hand. "That pain-in-the-ass Juje had two of 'em waiting. Two!" He shook the notes for emphasis.

"The trial's over?" JD asked, seeing Nathan's jubilation. The healer had been so morose since first hearing word about Ezra's state. This was the first time he'd seen Jackson smile. He walked across the room to get a look at what Nathan held. "Did Vin do it?" he asked.

"Darn right, JD," Nathan crowed. "He's been cleared of charges."

JD slapped Nathan on the back. "That's wonderful! Gosh, Nathan. Gosh! We gotta celebrate or somethin'."

"Not yet, JD. Gotta read this one first!" He separated one note from the other. "This one is …well, from someone who…" he paused as if he was trying to think of some dramatic way to say it. "Heck, it's from Ezra."

"From?" JD queried. "Not 'about'…"

"Who else would write like this?" and he cleared his throat.

GENTLEMEN," Nathan read aloud, "I JOIN YOU IN YOUR CELEBRATION FOR OUR COMPATRIOT, MR TANNER. HE HAS LONG DESERVED THIS PRONOUNCEMENT AND I KNOW THAT YOU BOTH ARE PLEASED TO HEAR IT. MR WILLINGTON AND I ARE CELEBRATING AS WE SPEAK. I ASSURE YOU THAT MY AFFLICTION HAS PASSED AND I SHALL SEE YOU AGAIN SHORTLY. I HOPE THE TOWN IS STILL STANDING. SINCERELY, EZRA."

"Affliction…" Nathan grumbled, but grinned as he looked at the two telegrams in his hands.

JD couldn't stand still. He wanted to run out onto the street or dance around, or jump and shout. To have Vin's name cleared and to have Ezra sending them telegrams AT THE SAME TIME! Well, it was a wonderful end to the day.

"This is great, Nathan," he finally said, not knowing what else could fit. "Damn good news."

"Why'zat so good?" Head said from his cell.

JD grimaced and grabbed the coin from the desk and jammed it into his pocket without looking at the criminal. Head whined and moaned, but JD was more interested in the telegrams.

Jackson lay an arm over JD's back and read with him -- going over the words again.

**TBC**


	4. A Good Name IV

**A GOOD NAME -- IV**  
_By NotTasha._

Three weeks had passed and the town continued to stand in spite of its missing peacekeepers. The local ranchers and shopkeepers pitched in where they could, but all in all, the remaining two – the sheriff and the healer – carried the majority of the load. They were tired from the long duties, but still, on the appointed day, they woke early and waited excitedly.

"There," Nathan said, pointing at distant shapes as the afternoon lengthened.

JD jumped to his feet. It was everything he could do to not saddle up and ride out to meet them. No, they had decided to be here, in the town they protected, when the missing five returned.

The two paced. Crossed the street, strode up the boardwalk, climbed to an upper story for a better view, and then clamored down as the five riders came closer.

"Vin!" JD shouted finally. "Ezra!" He ran the last few lengths, unable to wait any longer, with Nathan jogging up behind them.

The five pulled to a stop, just short of the first building that marked the start of town. Chris was in the lead, with Vin beside him. Vin seemed to sit somewhat taller in his saddle as he grinned at the sheriff. Buck and Josiah rode behind, flanking Ezra, with the packhorses strung after them. They all looked thoroughly pleased to be home.

"Hey, kid!" Buck reached out one arm to make sure that Ezra stayed upright. "Good to see you kept the place in one piece."

"Damn right!" JD shouted back, smiling wide as his mouth would allow.

"Ya damn fool!" Nathan berated as soon as he was close enough to note the pale and exhausted gambler. "What do you think you're doin'? Didn't Dr. Templeton tell you to stay put? Do you listen to him as much as you listen to me? Do you want to kill yourself?"

Ezra threw Buck a long-suffering glance and said, "Lord, I thought I'd escaped this when I left Digby." He was thinner than JD remembered -- they all were thinner -- and Ezra's hair looked curiously short under his hat.

"He didn't want to stay put any longer," Buck replied. "Stayed about a week after he woke, but figured if we started out early, we could go it slow and let these fella's catch up to us along the way."

Nathan just shook his head as he helped Ezra down from the saddle. "Damn stubborn fool! You couldn't just wait for Vin and the others to get back to Digby, could you? You could have used that extra week and got enough rest… but no. Had to start out early."

Ezra sighed. "If we'd waited for them, we'd have been even later and we've been away too long as it is. I'm afraid that I've been a bit of an anchor on this expedition. The journey from Digby to Four Corners should've taken a week, but it needed to be doubled due to my low constitution."

"Low constitution, my ass!" Nathan mumbled.

"Vin!" JD grasped the tracker's hand as he dismounted. "God, it's good to see you."

Tanner slapped JD on the arm. "Damn good to be home."

"You're free!" JD stated. "You got your named cleared and everything."

"Yup," Vin said and nodded.

"Don't got to worry about havin' a price on your head. Gosh, that's gotta feel good!" JD expounded, shaking Vin's arm.

"Yup," Vin said again, patting the pocket that held his important papers.

The others dismounted, greeting Nathan and JD with handshakes and backslaps. Buck thumped JD heartily, glad to see the young man again, and Josiah gave both Nathan and JD a bear hug. Even Chris stepped forward and gave them a vigorous handshake.

"I'll be glad to see the inside of that church again," Josiah added with a wistful smile. He rubbed his hands together saying, "Can't wait to get back to God's work."

"How'd it go?" Chris asked the sheriff. "You two run into any trouble?"

JD waved the question away. "Been pretty darn quiet here. Not much goin' on aside from Dick Heads and such."

Josiah and Chris both raised eyebrows, and Vin and Buck chuckled as they shook their heads. Nathan had pulled off Ezra's hat and was running a hand through his too-short hair while Ezra threw Buck pleading glances.

"How's he been?" JD asked anxiously. He watched as Nathan examined the gambler, knowing that Nathan had been aching to do this since the horrible telegram arrived. Jackson was a healer, and the ability to touch and feel and see his patient was more important than anything. Jackson's movements were almost greedy as he felt along the healing scar on Ezra's head.

Josiah sighed. "He's been pushing himself too hard."

"Can't ride for too long at a time," Vin added.

"Sleeps like the dead," Chris added.

"And gets cranky when you tell 'im it's time to quit," Buck completed.

"When his eyes get squinty like that, it means his head's hurtin 'im," Vin said with a gesture. Ezra squeezed his eyes shut in response and opened them all the wider.

"Won't admit it though," Chris stated.

"Doc Templeton sent along some medicines." Josiah tapped the bag that had been assigned to him once the group met up. "He's been behaving himself and taking them."

"Yeah, and when he says, 'I'm perfectly fine and more than capable of continuing for another hour'," Buck said with an affected accent, "That means he's about to drop."

"He's gonna put himself back in a bed if he keeps this up," Nathan muttered, feeling the gambler's forehead for a fever.

"I'm right here!" Ezra said in frustration, glaring at Nathan's hand but not doing anything to shove it away. Apparently he was too used to such ministrations. "I would insist that you please stop talking about me as if I'm still in a semi-conscious state."

Buck smiled and patted his friend on the back, remembering what that state had been like. He never wanted to see Ezra like that again. "Just glad to finally get back home." He looked to Nathan. "The trip has been a bit rough on him, but we took it slow. Met up with Chris and the others at Mudbank. He's been doin' pretty good most the time."

"Thank you!" Ezra said, exasperatedly pulling at his lapels as Nathan let go of him.

"God, it's great to have you back," JD said, stepping toward Ezra. The gambler extended a hand, but JD embraced him instead. Ezra looked startled, but returned the hug. "We were so worried about you," JD said softly as he clenched the thin con man tightly.

"I'm quite alright, Mr. Dunne," Ezra replied. He looked up when Nathan laid his hand on his shoulder. "Truly, I am."

"All we had was some telegrams to go by and I was just scared that…" JD continued breathlessly, pulling tighter.

"Nothing to worry about, JD," Ezra reassured. "See, I'm perfectly fine."

JD stepped back, nodding and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to not look embarrassed. "Yeah," he said and nodded. "You're all put together still," he said, patting Ezra on the chest.

Josiah watched the young sheriff with a smile, remembering the meeting that took place a week ago when they caught up with Buck and Ezra in Mudbank. Buck had to scold Josiah, telling him that he was afraid that Ezra would end up with a broken ribcage if Josiah didn't release him. The preacher laughed softly, seeing that same bewildered look on Ezra's face as JD stepped back.

The preacher recalled that Vin had been mostly silent during that reunion, almost embarrassed or guilty in his demeanor. Chris had tried to lecture Ezra about not waiting in Digby, but had ended up sounding more concerned than anything. They'd been glad to be together again, but what they really needed was to return home, to find all their members again and be whole.

JD smiled and then turned to another of the group to distract the others from what they'd just witnessed. "Glad you got your name cleared, Vin. Glad to have all you back again."

Vin nodded. "Good to be home."

"Yeah," Buck nodded. "Nothin' like comin' home after a long time away. Nothin' like bein' back among friends.

"Amen to that, brother," Josiah agreed.

"Perhaps we might adjourn to the saloon and toast our return?" Ezra stated. "We could also celebrate Mr. Tanner's good name."

"Sounds okay to me," Vin responded.

Nathan looked skeptical as he eyed his patient. "He up to it?"

Josiah tossed a paper packet to Nathan and said, "Put about a spoon of this in water. He'll last a bit longer."

Ezra could only sigh and shake his head. "They're doing it again," he said to Chaucer. The horse nuzzled him happily.

Josiah laughed deeply and patted Ezra on the shoulder. "It's good to be home," the preacher uttered.

Nathan and Ezra set the pace as they headed toward the saloon. The horses would be handed over to the livery boys to be cared for and settled in the stalls. The men would spend the rest of the afternoon in the saloon, celebrating the return of the Seven, and toasting Vin's good name.

The tracker smiled as he sat at the table, wondering if he should feel somehow different now that the bounty had been lifted. He looked across the table and laughed softly, seeing Nathan fussing over Ezra, and the gambler looking frustrated about the whole situation. 'Gonna want his feather bed in a minute or two,' he thought, noting the increased squint.

Buck was hassling JD. Chris was scanning the crowd in the saloon, finding his footing again. Josiah threw longing glances toward the church. _Yeah,_ Vin thought. _It was good to be home again._ Finally, he could stay here without fear – his friends would no longer be imperiled by that bounty. In the end, he realized, that it wasn't the name that mattered so much, as the home.

God, it was good to be home.

**THE END - by NotTasha**


End file.
